"Well," said the detective, rising and putting on his smart hat, "it's rather a muddle, I confess. I have no reason to suspect Mrs. Krill—"
"Good heavens, Hurd, you don't think she killed her husband?"
"No. I said that I have no reason to suspect her. But I don't like the woman at all. Norman left his wife for some unpleasant reason, and that reason, as I verily believe, has something to do with his death. I don't say that Mrs. Krill killed him, but I do believe that she knows of circumstances which may lead to the detection of the criminal."
"In that case she would save her thousand pounds."
"That's just where it is. If she does know, why does she double the reward? A straightforward woman would speak out, but she's a crooked sort of creature; I shouldn't like to have her for my enemy."
"It seems to me that you do suspect her," said Paul dryly, but puzzled.
Hurd shrugged his shoulders. "No, but I'm in a fix, that's a truth," said he, and sauntered towards the door. "I can't see my way. There's the clue of Mrs. Krill's past to be followed up, and the hint contained in this scrap of paper. The old man may have left a document behind likely to solve the whole business. He hints as much here."
"True enough, but nothing was found."
"Then again," went on Hurd, "the request for the jewels to be delivered to that sailor chap was in Norman's handwriting and signed with his name."
"A forgery."